Sweet Pointe
by BittChester
Summary: The sudden cut of her beloved Ballet Club has left a deep impact on Megumi Matsuharu. Suddenly, she decides to do something drastic in the name of revenge against the Seishun Gakuen's Boys Tennis Team, who didn't get cut, but in a way, forced her club to. What happens?
1. The Cut

_Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis, or it's characters._

_A/N: Hi guys, and welcome to my third story! ヽ(#`Д´)ﾉ Please review, as always! I worked very hard on this, so the least I can hope is that you all enjoy yourselves. Thank you millions for reading!_

* * *

"Matsuharu-san! Matsuharu-san!"

Megumi looked up, her dark, mid-waist hair cascading down her back as she released it from its position as an elegant bun. She smiled.

"Sakuno, club practice was done a while ago!" she said playfully, sliding a finger under the silk ribbons gracefully wrapped around her ankle.

She shook her head, panting, struggling to catch her breath from the frantic dash to the clubroom. In her small, trembling hand was an official looking piece of folded up paper. "M-Matsuharu-chan… they… they…!"

Megumi worriedly looked up at her kouhai, an on and off member of her club, and temporarily forgot about undoing her slippers. "Calm down," she said, eyebrows creased, "what did they do? What happened?"

Sakuno's didn't meet her eyes, but instead, said softly, "I-I'm so sorry, Matsuharu-chan…" while handing her the paper.

She smiled kindly at her, but she knew this was a bad sign. Dread began to build up in the pit of her stomach as she opened the letter up slowly.

Her eyes only had to graze over the title to understand Sakuno was acting the way she did.

* * *

She slammed the paper onto the sleek wood desk of the director, causing it to vibrate violently.

"What's the meaning of this?!" she demanded, eyes ablaze.

The director held up two palms in surrender. "I'm sorry Matsuharu; you know the school can't fund so many clubs at once! I'm well aware of how much emotional value it holds for you, but you of all people should understand, Miss Vice-President!"

Megumi stiffened, and fell back into a chair, exasperated. "Then, tell me what clubs are more important than mine?"

The director paused. "Matsuharu, you're putting me in a very difficult position-"

She stared daggers at him.

He sighed, pulling out a thick stack of miscellaneous papers from his desk drawer, and flipped through them, clearing his throat.

"Well, for starters, the Cooking Club." She nodded. That was understandable, in the very least.

"The Art Club." Her doubt spiked slightly, but it was still reasonable.

"Finally, one of the most notably important-" she leaned forward, eager to hear.

"Seishun Gakuen's Boys Tennis Club."

She felt her jaw drop with a small and undignified _pop._ "Why that ludicrous sport?!"

He glared at her. "I know you've had bad personal experiences with tennis related events, but this year, we have a very formidable tennis team on our hands. We even have a shot at the Nationals! Think about it, Matsuha-"

Megumi abruptly stood up, and, nodding curtly at him, exited the office in a flurry of irritation and disappointment.

As she walked toward her clubroom, she scoffed. "Tennis?"

Pulling open her locker, she slipped her snowy ballet slippers off the scuffed metal shelf, remembering how much happiness and bittersweet memories it presented to her. Her hands searched for any remnants, and then she promptly shut the locker.

She then began grabbing trophies, medals, and certificates from the wall and tables, stuffing them into her bag. She and her fellow classmates had earned these in every right by showing the world that grace and elegance still did matter, after so many unspeakable hardships.

And all of it was going down the drain because of one stupid club!

Megumi kicked over a stray desk in a sudden surge of anger. She had disliked tennis greatly, and now that it had come to this, she despised the Boys Tennis Club more than anyone could possibly imagine. They had destroyed her dreams – and her fellow clubmates.

It was time to act.

* * *

"Honestly," Sakuno sighed as she sat next to Tomo on a bench on campus, "I've never seen Megumi-san so shaken."

Tomo nodded. "That Ballet Club really meant a lot more to her than just an extra activity, neh?"

She was about to say something in agreement, but suddenly Megumi appeared, startling them. She looked slightly frantic. "Do you any of you have scissors?"

They both shook their heads, but Tomo pointed in a direction. "The Art Club is sure to have them, you can check there!"

Megumi strained a smile and thanked them.

As she strode away, Tomo and Sakuno gave each other befuddled looks.

"What was that all about?"

* * *

She slid the door to the Art Club open gently, and peered in, checking if anyone was still inhabiting the club. Carefully, she looked around, and sure enough, a pair of scissors was resting on top of a textbook about Van Gogh.

Hurriedly grabbing them, she left, slamming the door shut behind her with a _thud._

* * *

To her relief, the girl's restroom was unoccupied, so she invited herself in, locking the door behind her.

Taking a thick rubber band, she pulled her hair up into a long ponytail, slipping it into place. The mirror followed her movements.

Then, Megumi stared long and hard at her foreign reflection in the old mirror. Her once-elegant features were bitter and defiant. Her dark, almost black tawny eyes were clear: _Do it._

She took the scissors into her hand, examining them from all sides, the sunlight reflecting off its sharp silver sides, filled with doubt.

Was it really worth it?

She laughed at her foolishness.

It was more than worth it.

_I'll keep my promise, Sayu._

She reached behind her head, and squeezed her eyes shut.

_Snip. Snip. Snip._

A long strand of onyx hair fell gently to the cold linoleum ground, a few pieces of stray hairs landing near it.

Opening her eyes slowly, she was shocked to see the girl that was staring back at her in that dusty mirror.

Her lips silently mouthed the words O_h. My. God._

She was the same girl, sure, but a girl that could pass for a _boy_.

Megumi felt a light, strange smile stretch across her face. Her hand patted the fringed ends of her hair gently. Quickly, she picked up the long strand of fallen hair and stored it in her backpack carefully, disposing of the remnants, and left the scissors on the restroom sink.

In that very restroom, she made a vow as she gazed at her new self:

"I'll take my revenge on Seishun Gakuen's Boys Tennis Team, no matter what it takes!"

* * *

"Man, it's getting brutal." remarked Momoshiro as he saw yet another girl walk by in tears, holding a slip of paper.

Tezuka nodded, stoic as ever. "Many clubs are getting un-funded and cut at the same time, it seems. However, we can rest easy."

Ryoma snorted at the girl. "Mada mada dane."

Momo glanced at Ryoma, and then proceeded to give him a noogie. "That's rude, chibi!"

Fuji smiled on and Eiji grinned as he flipped his way across the court to join in bullying Ryoma.

"Everybody, stop wasting your time and get back to practice if you don't want to get cut like the others!" yelled Tezuka, pointing to the courts. "Now!"

Nodding rather sheepishly, they got back into position on the courts.

The sound of rallying balls filled the court, somewhat echoing off the chain-link walls.

* * *

Meanwhile, Megumi pulled a hairband on, bringing her bangs away from her face. Then, she slid on a white baseball cap, covering her face slightly. A baggy red hoodie and navy sweatpants adorned her dancer frame, effectively covering up any stray curves or anything that hinted her of being feminine.

Swiveling her body side to side, she nodded, satisfied, slinging a tennis bag over her shoulder and headed into the courts.

* * *

Tezuka stood, supervising the practice of his team, when-

"Oi." a voice called behind him.

He whipped around, looking down on a boy wearing a baseball that shadowed his face. A hand was slid into his pocket, a cocky grin in place as he chewed and popped his gum.

"Yes?"

The boy paused, looking up. "Are you the captain of Seishun Gakuen's Boys Tennis Team?"

Tezuka nodded silently. What was this strange boy getting at?

The boy's grin disappeared, and he spit gum onto the courts, in which he received glares from the regulars who were now watching with interest.

He slipped off his tennis bag and pulled out a tennis racket, grinning again. "Wanna match?"

Tezuka paused. "If I have a match with you, then what?"

The boy smirked. "If I lose, I'll clean up that gum. But if I win…" he pointed his racket at Tezuka's unfazed face.

"I get to be Captain."

Tezuka stared at him for a few moments, but complied.

"What's your name?"

The boy stiffened and paused.

"Sayu… suke. Sayusuke."

Tezuka nodded, and headed into the courts, getting into position.

* * *

_Fool!_ Megumi hissed in her mind as she watched him retreat, _I've had over 4 years of tennis training!_

Regardless, she grinned, pulling her cap down lower and got into position, nostalgia washing over her like a cold wave. After this, she promised herself, no more tennis. It was going to be too painful to play this match alone.

Good bye, Tezuka.

"Tezuka versus Sayusuke, start! Tezuka to serve!"


	2. A Loss

_Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis or it's characters. Blah blah blurb._

_A/N: I did this faster than I thought, since I wanted to update it early for you guys, so I'm sorry if there's some mistakes (which there should be very few of, since I went over it like, 10 times lol). So, enjoy! As always, review, review, and review! Thanks again, lovies!_

* * *

"Game, Tezuka! 6-0!"

"What the hell…?"

The racket slipped from her blistered hand, the sharp clattering filling the silenced court. Her body shook from impact as her knees met the tennis court, sweat ruthlessly dripping down her disbelieving face. Tezuka's dominating figure across the court began to blur with hot tears, and battered hands brushed the ground, feeling for nothing.

_I'm so sorry, Sayu. I tried so hard, I really did._

Megumi didn't hear the soft _pit-pat_ of footsteps over the fatigued buzzing in her ears until a commanding shadow fell over her defeated figure, quiet and stoic.

"Good game."

_So that was the power of the Tennis Club's Captain. No wonder the director had felt so strongly about them. _

Small, dark dots appeared onto the ground before her silently crying eyes. She nodded, quickly wiping away the tears from her haggard, sweat-streaked face with a weary swipe of her arm.

_I had greatly underestimated them. Just four years alone would have never been enough, never._

* * *

The regulars looked on from the sidelines, grudgingly impressed by the strange boy. They admired Sayusuke's character. It seemed like he had truly pushed himself against his limits the entire match, even though at one point they had caught a glimpse of face, desperate, with an expression they knew all too well.

It was the expression of when one knew they were going to lose, no matter the odds.

They felt a collective pang of pity for him as he kneeled on the court, defeated and broken. In a unified silence, their eyes followed as Tezuka knelt as well, placing an authoritative hand on Sayusuke's worn figure.

* * *

At the sudden contact, she flinched, feeling her hatred peak, but bit her lip to keep silent, the salty taste of tears sharp. Instead, she simply tried to shake his hand off, but he remained, gripping her shoulder firmly.

"Sayusuke-kun, what year are you?"

"Second," she lied quickly, pointedly staring at the court ground, not meeting his eyes.

A silence unfolded and unfolded again, and she flashed her eyes up quickly, only catching a glimpse of what seemed to be fleeting thoughtfulness on a stoic expression.

Finally, after a few long seconds that seemed like an eternity, he cleared his throat. "From what I've seen today, you have some potential."

In spite of herself, she laughed with a tone bordering on bitterness. "You don't have to try so hard."

Gripping her shoulder even tighter as a warning, he continued. "That is why," he said, "I am going to offer you the position of a back-up regular, like Inui. If you join, then you are sure to become better. It would be a shame to waste potential."

_Back-up regular?_ She mused, mentally scoffing at his foolishness, _as if!_

Megumi immediately opened her mouth to decline with a "_no, fuck you_", but closed it just as quickly when something hit her.

_This position is better than nothing,_ she realized, _and it could get me onto the team, even if I am a back-up!_

Her head vigorously nodded up and down, nearly causing the cap to slip off from the sudden, jagged movements. Tezuka gave a confirming "hm" and stood, offering a hand.

Denying the help, she stood, and placing a sore hand onto a knee, slowly pushed herself up.

Together, they walked to the closemouthed regulars.

* * *

"Everyone," Tezuka announced in a dominating tone, placing his hand yet again on Sayusuke's shoulder, "meet the newest addition to the club."

Sayusuke nodded slightly as a greeting or acceptance, pulling his cap lower. The regulars combined eyes focused on the addition.

Looking him up and down, they judged his build critically. Rather slender, and about the same height as Fuji, he had dark, layered hair. His arms were crossed in uncomfortable indifference.

Oishi was the first one to reluctantly walk up and offer him his hand, awkwardly smiling. "Nice to meet you, Sayusuke-kun, I'm fukubuchou Oishi."

He merely nodded again, ignoring his hand as if he had a bad bout of flu and didn't want to get infected. The members looked at one another, unsure to of what to do, but eventually they followed Oishi's forward lead and began to step up, conversing with him enthusiastically.

Silently absorbing their words, he gave a quiet "mhm" or a subtle "hm" whenever someone questioned or complimented his techniques.

Suddenly, Ryuzaki appeared on the court, arms crossed and wrinkles etching across her aged face. "Why aren't you all practicing? And who's this?"

Eiji grinned, stepping in and pointing grandly at Sayusuke. "This is our newest member, nya! He's Sayusuke-kun!" Sayusuke had been attempting to separate himself from the crowd, with no success, glancing at Ryuzaki with slight interest.

"Ah. And why didn't you consult me about this?"

"My apologies, Coach Ryuzaki." Tezuka said, taking command, hand still in place perched on top of Sayusuke's shoulder, "but if need be, I fully recommend and back his entrance into the club's ranks among the regulars. He plays well."

She paused, face clouded in doubt. "Well, if it's you who's saying so, Tezuka…" she sighed and shrugged her shoulders, defeated. "then I'm powerless."

Ryuzaki smiled warmly at Sayusuke, who gazed back in detatched acknowledgement.

"Welcome to the Tennis Club, Sayusuke-kun!"

* * *

Megumi awoke on her soft bed, tangled up in the smooth covers. Sunlight poured in through the closed blinds of her room. Dust danced and winked in the light, only disturbed and sent off into a chaotic array when she softly breathed.

Feeling for the comfort of her hair, she was greeted by the cold fabric of the pillow she rested on, which was wrinkled from a restless sleep of tossing and turning.

Her hand patted the back of her head, small tufts of hair pressing back, stinging her calloused fingers.

_They should make it a crime to physically work dancers with their hands, _she sighed inwardly, swinging her scratched legs out of bed, glancing at the digital clock that had failed to wake her on her nightstand.

Then, she uttered a word that would've caused her grandmother to turn in her grave.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late!" the regulars heard as a figure bounded onto early morning court, tennis bag thumping against a jacketed back.

As she opened her mouth to apologize again to Tezuka, who was standing and observing the team's morning practice, he glanced at her, panting and doubled over, hands on her knees.

"Unacceptable. 5 laps around the courts, Sayusuke."

She quickly looked up in disbelief, mouth halfway open in protest.

"10 laps."

Throwing the heavy bag onto the court's bench with a violent _thump_, she began jogging around the courts, knees screaming in pain, mentally swearing in such large quantities it would've caused her grandmother to die again.

* * *

"Alright everyone, nice practice!" yelled Ryuzaki encouragingly, "now hurry up and get to class! I won't accept any late excuses or complaints from your teachers!"

As everyone filed out, sweaty but contented from the morning's hard practice, Sayusuke was stopped by none other than Tezuka.

"What's your class?" he asked.

His face darkened and his arms crossed in impatient irritation. "Why do you want to know?"

"In case we need to contact you for practice."

A silence lapsed between them, filling the space entirely for a moment. Sayusuke finally answered, his tone vexing.

"No. It's fine. It's not like I need to attend so many practices, I probably won't ever play."

"If that's how you perceive it," Tezuka answered curtly, "then you'll be cut from the team."

He saw Sayusuke visibly stiffen.

"Fine!" he snapped, pulling out a cellphone from his bag and flipping it open with such brutal force that he wouldn't have been surprised if it had flown off, "exchange numbers with me."

* * *

Megumi tore away from the courts, rushing into the restroom, still in her "Sayusuke" attire with 15 minutes until class. Speedily locking the heavy door, she cursed Tezuka for taking up her time.

Changing into her uniform, she ripped off the baseball cap and headband that were dark from sweat, proceeding to take the long strand of hair that she had cut off the day before out of her bag.

Her hands stretched an elastic hairband, and quickly reaching behind her head, she fastened the strand of hair into place with a long layer of hair, sticking various pins into the knot for good measure.

Rotating herself around in front of the mirror, she looked no different from yesterday, if not slightly more haggard looking, although that was from the ridiculously rigorous tennis practice.

She exited the restroom as Megumi Matsuharu.

* * *

"Ah! Matsuharu-chan!" called the teacher from his desk as she prepared to leave.

She looked up, pausing from her textbook stacking and paper stuffing. "Yes?"

"There's a school council meeting today during third period, don't forget!"

Her body froze, dropping the textbooks she had been holding. She completely forgot about her duties as Vice-President! And what made it even worse was-

"Matsuharu Megumi!" Tezuka called, taking the attendance diligently.

"H-here," she piped, sliding further down into her seat, wishing to God for a heart attack, seizure, cancer, anything, absolutely anything, that could get her out of this meeting. He checked her name off, placing the paper to the side.

Nodding contentedly, he then proceeded to sit down, his every movement causing Megumi's nerves to be pushed further and further off the edge. She had to find a way to deal with this.

Tuning out, she examined the elaborate swirls in the pine desk, only hoping that the meeting would go by faster if she did so. It was successful, her thoughts were now focused on how many calories donuts contained, but not for long.

"…-aru? Matsuharu-san!"

She jolted up at the sudden call of her name, her knee bolting and hitting against the desk with a metallic _thud_, giggles and chuckles erupting around the room. "Y-yes?"

He cut her a disapproving look. "I was just talking about the recent club meetings. Wasn't your club unfunded as well?"

_Funny you should mention that, since your club was the one that crushed mine._

Her fist clenched tightly under the desk, nails digging into her palms, the knuckles turning a ghostly white. Her whole body was rigid with tension.

"…Yes."

He nodded. "These cuttings are truly reaching everywhere, so I deeply apologize to anyone who's had their club discontinued."

Murmurs of agreement passed throughout the room like a wave. Megumi sat silently, now staring at her lap, not really focusing on anything.

No matter how many times he apologized or how much he meant it, it wasn't going to bring her club back.

* * *

"Wah!" Eiji exclaimed, watching Megumi stretch effortlessly on the court at practice a few hours after the meeting, which she somehow managed to stomach, "out of all of us, Sayusuke-kun, you're definitely the most flexible, nya!"

She smiled inwardly as she did a full split, the baseball cap's bill touching the court's ground. All those years of hard work and dedication made her as flexible as it got.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Momo shudder. "That hurts, doesn't it?"

Regaining her balance, she shrugged indifferently. "Well…" she said, leaning forward, palms planted on the ground while her legs remained straight. "not really."

Ryoma grinned as he drank his Ponta, tipping it back and tossing it over his shoulder, effortlessly landing it into the bin behind them, "What, don't you have any balls?"

Eiji immediately glomped Ryoma, playfully pushing him. "Hoi, that's rude, nya!"

_Actually, that's true, _she mused, smiling slightly but discreetly, pulling back a short, stray strand of hair.

* * *

"Alright, team," addressed Ryuzaki, leaning back in her office chair, "we'll be playing against Fuduomine."

The regulars collectively nodded while Megumi listened intently, leaning against Ryuzaki's office wall, face hidden in thought. She glanced at Tezuka.

"Will I get a chance to play?"

He shook his head. "No, but it's alright to watch."

_Perfect._


End file.
